


Call on Me

by wakethedreams



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Canon Typical Violence, Dark elements, Drama, F/M, Gangs AU, Guns n' Drugs AU, M/M, Power Imbalance, Romance, Slow Burn, morally compromised Rick, not gonna lie kids things get a little fucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakethedreams/pseuds/wakethedreams
Summary: Rick can't seem to cope after Lori is murdered in a mugging gone wrong. Obsessed with catching her killer, Rick decides to retire from the force and focus on raising his kids. But, it seems he isn't as adjusted to the simple life as he thought and at the suggestion of a friend he takes a job working security for a night club. However, the gig isn't all that it seems - a front for a much more violent operation. Rick finds himself caught in the sights of the club's owner, a killer in a leather cut named Negan, who makes Rick an offer he can't refuse.





	1. New Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been stuck in my head for a while so I took the plunge and wrote it out. My first Regan fic and first TWD one as well. Posting the first three chapters for y'all - enjoy!

“Hey Phil, how ya’ doing this morning?” Michael greeted Rick with that same sort of chipper attitude he had always found grating growing up in small town Georgia. He also wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to living under a false name, probably because it was the name of a man he’d killed. Phillip Blake. It never seemed to help his guilt that he knew deep down Blake deserved what he got. Most of the people Rick had killed did. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Yet still he saw their faces, wherever he went.

Rick sighed, giving his boss as gentle a smile as he could muster. Working at Whole Foods wasn’t terrible. San Fransico was nice. Rick loved the bay, and the noise that was almost as deafening as New York City when you got down in the heart of it, but could be quiet as King County if he went far enough into Cole Valley or the Sunset. The fog was beautiful too, early in the morning on his way to the 6 AM shift he reveled in its clammy stillness. 

It wasn’t so bad.

“Mornin’ Michael, how’s everything so far?” Rick didn’t bother telling the other man how he was. It didn’t matter. Rick could never be honest. Michael thought he and Rick were somehow ‘pals’ because Michael was from Texas and despite the 15 years he’d spent in NYC Rick had never been able to shake his accent. Rick tolerated Michael’s presence because working in the bakery at a grocery store was about as low-key as it got.

He listened to Michael drag on about the Willie Nelson concert he’d gone to at The Greek in Berkeley, how Willie is too old and it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be. 

“I’m letting Joelle pick next time, maybe we’ll have better luck.” Michael commented, looking out at the buzz of the store before they opened for the day. There always seemed to be a mad rush around 7 AM, before the doors slid open, to get that last pallet broken down and off the floor or that fourth tray of whatever into the oven. Rick brushed some egg wash on the croissants he’d laid out to proof carefully, he was meticulous about his work here. He found calm in the redundancy of it all.

“Goddamnit, its 7:30, Dominique should’ve been here an hour ago. Kenny!” Michael rushed off to find Ken, a tall and lithe girl whose quiet strength reminded him of Carl. Dominique had a penchant for being late, probably because there wasn’t a single thing the girl didn’t go 100mph at. Rick knew she didn’t sleep much, could see the same lines on her face that he knew covered his own face. He never slept. Rick, on the other hand, knew how to get to work on time.

“Mornin’ everyone! Sorry I’m late!” Dominique scurried quickly into the department, eyes shooting around for Michael. She ran a hand sheepishly through her short curly hair before jumping into the morning’s activities.

“Hey beautiful, you come here often?” She sidled in next to where Rick was working, batting her big brown eyes at him comically as she started working on soft pretzels for the soup bar. Rick couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her. Sometimes, it felt like he was talking to a miniature version of Ne-

No. He wouldn’t go there.

Despite himself, his better judgement, and all reason Rick had found himself growing attached to the little family that was the bakery. He could depend on the routine to give him solid footing in reality. The people here just seemed to have a way of worming under his skin. Rick had told himself when he left NYC that he’d have to create a completely new identity, to really leave it all behind. And he had. He’d taken everything that had happened and tucked it away carefully into a room he had created in his heart before promptly padlocking the door. He couldn’t go back to that, and if that meant he couldn’t go back to his family, to love, happiness – so be it. He’d have to make do here. And he had.

Working at Whole Foods wasn’t terrible. San Francisco is nice.

“Attention Whole Foods team members, the time is now 8 am and we are open. Have a great day!” The shift leader chirped on the over-head, unlocking the doors at the front of the store to let the morning breakfast rush in.

The morning commuters and techies on their walk to the office rushed in to grab some eggs and hashbrowns off the hot bar, that second coffee for the day, a quick biscuit or croissant from the pastry case. Rick watched from his spot behind the counter, sighing. He missed his morning routine – missed kissing Lori goodbye before rushing out the door, missed waking Carl up for school or getting up with Judith early while the rest of the house still slept. He missed rocking his daughter back to sleep while he paced the floor, early morning sunlight peeking in through the windows. Lori was dead now though, and Carl was eighteen and probably better off without him. Judith was in better hands. He couldn’t raise a baby on the run.

Somewhere deep inside Rick, in the room with the padlock, an aching stirred. One that he’d never acknowledge but he knew missed the feel of smooth leather under his hands and hot breath on his neck whispering: Rick.

“Hey, anybody in there?” Rick blinked as Dominique waved a hand in front of his face. She looked in off into the store, where Rick had been staring, lost in thought. “Your croissants are burning dude.” She smiled wolfishly at him, gesturing sharply to the oven.

“Oh thanks,” Rick made quick work of the croissants, changing the rack to start the next bake off, mind still cluttered with unwanted thoughts.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Dominique was still leaning against the counter, staring out into the store at the customers with a sort of soulless expression on her face. Like being here was like letting her soul leave her body. 

“You realize I’m twice your age, right?” Rick shot back, coming to stand next to her. She only cocked an eyebrow in response, however. Never one to be idle he started to package up doughnuts into containers while he spoke, “Got a lot on my mind is all, yknow, stuff.” He trailed off, looking to her out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at him now, the intensity of her look putting him off a bit.

“Thaangs, right?” Dominique made sure to put an excessive twang on the word, making both of them smile. Rick went back to his work, silently printing labels and placing them on the underside of his neatly packaged doughnuts. He was contemplating telling Dominique something, not the whole truth but a half one, maybe talking about some of his shit would help. He didn’t get the chance however when the girl beside him made a bewildered sound in the back of her throat.

“Holy shit! Does that guy have-” Her words were lost in the sound of bullets spraying and people screaming. 

“Everyone! Get out here, on the floor, hands behind your heads!” One of the men, who had let out the initial gunshots, had grabbed someone close to him and was holding a gun to their head. “Hurry up or this guy’s brains get to be decorations!”

“Fuck,” Rick muttered while ducking down behind the counter with Dominique, realizing that the man being held hostage was Michael. “Don’t do anything stupid, Texas Ranger.” He muttered to himself.

Most of the occupants of the store had come out of their departments and were now kneeling in a cluster around the first man. Rick saw movement at the front of the store and realized they had a gun on the security guard and what looked like four more men fanning out through the store to search for stragglers. Six men in total. He gestured to the girl next to him go hide in the cooler, but all he got in response was a curled lip and glare.

“Fuck no! I’m helping you!” She whispered harshly and Rick saw no room for argument. They only had seconds. There was a side door that they used to exit their department sometimes. If Rick stood to the left of it he could possibly ambush one of the men and grab their gun. He managed to slide one of the chef’s knives off the magnetic strip in the corner without being noticed.

“Now, if everyone cooperates, no one needs to die today.” The first man was shouting again and Rick imagined him digging the muzzle of his gun into Michael’s temple at the emphasis on the word. “We’re just looking for one man.” 

Rick’s stomach dropped at the words. A part of him had already known. Six months. He’d made it six months. How had he found him? He didn’t have time to dwell on it as one of the men was making their way to the side entrance.

He gestured at Dominique before whispering harshly, “Stand in his line of sight!” And the glare he received was even more sour than the first one but she did it anyway. He slid the knife over to her anyway, just in case. She held it out in front of her, blade angled upward Rick noted, just as one of the gunmen came through the door.

“Oh sweetie, that ain’t gonna help you.” He thrust his hips forward a little, pushing the gun at his hip out in front of him menacingly. Rick didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the other man by his head, swinging him around to slam his face into the wall. Blood gushed out onto his fingers a little, the man he was holding grunting and scrabbling to get a hold on his gun. Dominique came up from behind and slid the knife in under the man’s ribs before thrusting up, spraying blood.

“Holy shit, oh my god, holy shit.” She was muttering, quickly letting go of her grip on the knife as the man slumped to the ground. Rick made quick work of grabbing the man’s gun.

Rick had been blocking out the noise of the ring leader outside but the voice cut through the haze as he began in a sing-song voice, “Riiiiiick! We know you’re in here somewhere. Now why don’t you make this easy and come on out here.” Rick knew that voice, but it was muffled by whatever masks they were wearing. But he swore he knew it.

“Who the fuck is Rick?” Dominique gasped, hands shaking and face pale. Rick was surprised she had managed to compose herself long enough to hear that. First kills were always hard, Rick remembered.

“I’m Rick.” He grunted, pulling the knife from the man’s gut. He handed it to Dominique, hilt first. “Still want to help?” She took the knife, nodding.  
They didn’t get a second more to think about a possible plan, or what they were going to do next when another man entered through the door. Rick didn’t hesitate before shooting him point blank. 

“Riiiiiiick! Is that you?” The ringleader sounded all too delighted in discovering their location. Rick felt himself sliding back into it all, the padlock on that door turning and clicking before falling away from the door he’d locked it all behind. That voice. Simon. He knew that voice. And suddenly nothing else mattered.

“Take the gun, let’s go.” Rick pointed to the fallen man and if Dominique hesitated he didn’t notice. He’d only taken down two of the six men, but Rick knew that only two of them would be mobile. Simon wouldn’t give up his hostage and neither would the man holding the security guard. The two remaining men had fanned out, one taking the left entrance and the other taking the one they were by.

“Fuck it.” Rick slammed against the swinging door just as one of the men was in front of it, sending him sprawling on the floor. “Take him.” Rick hissed behind him and he saw a gun flash beside him as his teammate took the man out. 

Rick caught sight of the second man, making to duck behind the bakery counter. Rick laughed, bounding over to the front of the display case. He leaned over and stuck the muzzle of his gun against the second man’s head, watching with empty eyes as he pulled the trigger and he ended another life. How many more would follow him?

A low whistle sounded through the store and for a second a cold sweat over took him before he realized it was only Simon. A big problem, but not the biggest. Not the worst.

“Gotta say Rick, I’m impressed – you still got it!” Rick turned to face him, knew that he wouldn’t be able to see his face behind that stupid black mask but he could still feel the glee, the smirk, the delight. Rick wanted to spit at Simon’s feet but resisted. “And here we were all taking bets on how soft you’d gotten.”

Rick didn’t want to have to kill Michael or the security guard, but he knew there was a real possibility he’d be forced to, to make this end. He decided to stall, see if an advantage might play itself out.

“That so?” Rick squared his hips, legs bowing out slightly as he did so. He kept his gun trained on Simon, his hands never wavered for a second. 

“Yeah, it is.” Simon sighed, almost looking put out. Like this whole operation was a giant waste of his time. And honestly, Rick wouldn’t be surprised if Simon really thought it was. He didn’t give a shit about Rick. They were all in this for one reason or another and they protected each other and some even found the bonds of brotherhood, but Simon was the kind to protect others to further his own self-interest. If things were his way, Rick would have a bullet between his eyes by now. No mercy.

“Boss isn’t too happy with you Rick, no one is.” He gave Rick a conciliatory look, shrugging as best he could without losing his grip on his hostage. Rick felt rage bubbling up inside him, at the sheer fucking nerve, but he knew that’s what Simon wanted. Rage made him sloppy and lusty for blood, all good sense out the window. Focus.

Rick risked a quick glance over where he knew Dominique had been but found the spot next to the dead body empty. The gun hadn’t been abandoned there which was a good sign. Maybe the girl was worth her salt after all. He caught a glimpse of movement behind the man holding the security guard and knew that his chance was fast approaching. Simon hadn’t seemed to notice the silent approach from behind however, continuing his attempts to rile Rick up.

“Oh by the way,” He smiled predatorily, head cocking to one side, “Your boy sends his regards. He might play tough but we all know – his misses his papa.” Simon drew out the last words, as if he were talking to a toddler who wouldn’t understand the normal pace of speech. Rick saw red for a moment before the head of the second man exploded, brain matter splattering everything.

“What the fuck!” Simon’s focus wavered for a moment and Michael took this opportunity to throw his head back into Simon’s face, a loud crunching noise rewarding him for his efforts before breaking free from the hold and hightailing it out of there.

Rick didn’t hesitate to shoot one of Simon’s knee caps. He put as much restraint on that dark and bloody part of him that was lurking just below the surface of his skin. Simon collapsed to one knee, blood streaming from the nose Michael had broken, grunting in concealed pain. Rick swung back his fist before clocking the other man in the jaw. Simon fell backward onto the floor, spitting blood from his mouth as he lay there, laughing.

“Oh Rick, you really still have that touch, don’t ya?” Simon’s eyes were wide and feral now, and Rick couldn’t help but feel excited at seeing something so feral and wild for a moment. It passed though and was replaced by rage. Carl. Why the fuck was this monster lurking around his son. Rick pressed the rifle he had into Simon’s neck, watching as he choked on a mixture of breath and blood.

“I ain’t gonna kill you,” Rick’s face was close enough to the other man’s that he could smell the sweat and grime of gore on him. “I want you to go back, I want you to tell him what happened here today.” He pushed the gun further into Simon’s throat, watching as his eyes began to bulge from lack of oxygen. Rick eased his grip and the man beneath him gasped.

“Tell him what happened here. Tell him that no matter where I go, no matter what he does – he’ll never win. He’s already lost.” Rick knocked the butt of his gun against Simon’s head, watching him quickly fall unconscious. He didn’t spare the people around him a last look as he made his way from the store.  
It was time to go home.


	2. Into the Mystic

**ONE YEAR EARLIER**

 

It had been two years since Lori had died. Rick sat in the living room of their brownstone, watching Judith totter around on the floor. She had Lori’s eyes, but the rest was something else. Rick knew what something else that was, but he never had the courage to truly name it, even to himself. Two years since Lori had been stabbed to death. Mugging gone wrong. Perp was never found. He regretted moving his family to NYC more than anything else he’d ever done.

He had wanted to be something more than be Sherriff’s Deputy of King County. He realized now that the reason he had accepted the transfer to homicide was because he wanted to put as much distance between his family and his coma. Between his family and Shane.

He had retired from the force four months ago. His life had been consumed with finding Lori’s killer. Rick never really let it go, not even after all this time. Staying on the force only dredged up his failures every day. He had kids to take care of now.

Carl slipped in through the front door, backpack slung over one shoulder. Rick hadn’t realized it was that time of the day yet. He scooped Judith up from her spot on the floor, hugging her to his chest as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Hey Dad,” Carl smiled softly at him, fringe falling into his eyes as he deposited his backpack on the floor and began digging through the cupboards for a snack. Rick rolled his eyes, scooping the discarded pack off the floor and hanging it off the back of one of the dining room chairs.

“How was school?” Rick asked, making his way into the kitchen to see what they had for dinner. Rick wasn’t much of a cook but he made do with what he had, which regrettably wasn’t much. Carol, their neighbor, would bring dinner over sometimes for them. Especially after Lori had died.

“It was school,” He muttered, digging into a pack of Oreo’s like he hadn’t eaten all day. Rick couldn’t help but smile at the redundancy of it all. He was glad Carl had still managed to turn out like a normal seventeen-year-old boy, despite losing a parent. Despite losing Rick temporarily to obsession and revenge. Things had gotten better for them, he didn’t want to ruin that. There was a calm that had settled over their tiny family, a surface level calm that was only held together by the tension that rested underneath.

Rick stared into the fridge and it’s sparse contents. The cupboards weren’t much better. He sighed, bouncing Judy on his hip playfully. She giggled when Rick let her grab his cheeks and squeeze.

He grabbed his cellphone off the counter, resigned, “How about pizza for dinner, huh?”

 

~

“Man, you needa get yourself some, that’s your problem!” Abraham bellowed, taking another swig from his beer. Some of the foam got on his mustache and Rick smiled at the sight of his former partner. Abraham had been a whole lot of necessary comic relief, albeit a little overbearing at times, when they had worked homicide together.

“Nah, that’s not it,” Rick couldn’t help the blush that had flooded his cheeks at his friend’s remarks. He hadn’t really thought of getting back into dating after Lori and certainly not casual sex or one-night stands. The year following her death had been consumed with dark thoughts and pent up rage. Rick couldn’t have brought anyone into those demon’s in good conscious. Couldn’t now either, knowing that those venomous thoughts still lurked beneath the surface. His kids kept him grounded, kept that darkness out.

“Alright, if you say so Grimes.” Abraham chuckled, slapping him on the back good naturedly. Sometimes they’d sit out on the stoop of Rick’s place, watching the city life bustle past outside. Rick’s neighborhood was one of the quieter ones in New York City, and as safe as it could get he supposed. That didn’t stop him from sleeping with his gun under his pillow. He knew it was reckless, and he locked it up during the day for Carl and Judith’s safety, but he couldn’t sleep without feeling the comfort of its weight beneath him.

“I don’t know how you do it, man. Retirement. Shit, how do you not lose your goddamn mind?” Abraham wasn’t the type to mince words, which could come off as insensitive at times, which was why Rick didn’t take too much offense.

He just shot the red-head a look, as if to say, ‘Buddy, I _am_ losing my mind.’ Which wasn’t too far from the truth. Rick had only been retired for four months but without the daily drama that was working homicide in a city like this, or the compulsion to continue hunting for Lori’s killers, Rick had found that he wasn’t as well-adjusted to the quiet life as he’d previously thought. He hated himself for it. Hated that he couldn’t be satisfied with _just_ being a parent. Rick sipped from his bottle and pushed those thoughts down inside him. He couldn’t go there.

“Maybe I need to get a hobby or something, to pass the time.” He commented idly, watching a woman walk her tawny colored pit bull across the street. Abraham hummed his agreement, the sound more like a rumbling.

“Why don’t you try something part time, y’know, do security somewhere on the weekends?” Abraham suggested and at Rick’s look he held a hand up good naturedly. “Under the table, Grimes. No one needs to know you’re not quite as retired as you look.” He winked at Rick as he said that, bellowing when he received an eye roll for his troubles.

“You mean like a bouncer?” Rick drawled. He’d been in the city for years now, but he still couldn’t kick that southern twang. It was like a part of the old Rick clinging on desperately in the face of this harder, colder version of himself. He’d gotten so much shit for it over the years from his buddies at the station, he couldn’t help but resent it a little.

“Yeah, something like that.” Abraham looked hesitant for a second before shaking it off. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone. “I know just the place, here gimme your phone.”

Rick dutifully handed it over, watching as Abraham typed in a number quickly. Rick couldn’t help but smile a little to himself. Maybe this could help get him outside his head a little, just a few days a week.

~

“Okay, here we go, time for bed sweetheart.” Rick carefully nestled Judith into her bed, tucking her blankets around her. She made a face like she was about to protest but Rick stooped down and kissed her cheek before she could. “Time to sleep, Judy.”

“Night night, Daddy.” She smiled up at him, eyes already drooping as she nestled further into her pillows.

“Night night, sweetie.” He gave her one last kiss atop her head before switching off the overhead light and turning on her night light. Rick left the door cracked open before making his way down the hall to his room. Carl’s light was still on, so Rick knocked twice before peeking his head inside.

Carl was sprawled on his bed, headphones on, Dorito’s nestled in next to him as he clicked away on his laptop.

“ _Carl_.” Rick raised his voice a little to get his son’s attention over the headphones he was sure were blaring music. Carl’s head snapped in his direction, startled but he didn’t say anything. “Ten more minutes, it’s a school night.” Rick nodded towards the laptop pointedly.

Carl sighed and rolled his eyes, and boy did he take after Rick in that respect, before biting out, “Fine.”

Rick settled in for bed not that long after, satisfied when he saw Carl’s bedroom light flick off fifteen minutes after his warning. He wrapped himself up in the blankets and tried to ignore the empty space beside him. Hours passed and the emptiness that always came with night settled in. Without day to day distractions there was nothing that kept the insidious feelings Rick harbored at bay. He wanted to destroy something. There was so much aggression bubbling at the surface, right under his skin. His wife had been stolen from him, the life he was supposed to have – taken from him in the dark of the night.

Rick reached blindly for his phone, blinking rapidly at the screens brightness. It was nearly midnight. Hey, if you run a nightclub midnight is probably prime time, right? Rick scrolled through his phone, looking for the number Abe had typed in. He stopped when he hit ‘ _Daddy’s Back_ ’ and laughed – of course he would. Rick pressed the call button and waited.

It rang twice before the bumping of loud music crackled in the background and a voice rasped, “This is Simon speaking, make it quick.”

 


	3. No Easy Love

“You sure you’re okay with this, Carl?” Rick fiddled with the hem of his shirt compulsively in the mirror. He regretted springing this on Carl so suddenly, but Simon had wanted him to start as soon as possible so here he was, Friday night, prepping Carl to keep an eye on Judith while he made his way across town.

“Dad, it’s cool, I’m seventeen now.” He sat on the floor with Judith, the Paw Patrol entrancing Judith for the time being. “I can handle it.” And damn if that didn’t make Rick flush with parental pride he didn’t know what would.

“Thank you,” He leaned down to kiss the top of Carl’s head, unsuprised when his son half-heartedly swatted him away.

“Whatever.” There was the classic Grime’s eyeroll. “Maybe this will be good for you, anyway.” The meaning to his son’s words laid hidden in between the lines but Rick knew all the same – Carl wasn’t dumb. He’d noticed Rick’s despondency and had seen his pent-up aggression at its worst over the years. This would be good for them both.

“Yeah, maybe.” He drawled, fixing his shirt again. He’d settled for jeans and a white t-shirt, unsure what the formal attire for a bouncer entailed. “List of numbers on the fridge if there’s an emergency, Carol knows to check on you before bedtime.” Rick rattled off the necessities, feeling a nervous flop in his stomach at the idea of leaving his kids alone for the night. They’d be safe, he assured himself for the tenth time.

Carl waved a hand at him, pretending to be interested in the kid’s show but Rick knew better. He was always trying to play the tough kid all the time. When he sensed Rick lingering he gave his Dad a pointed glare: “Dad, go. Have fun. We’ll be fine.”

Rick laughed, turning on his heel and making towards the door. He threw an “I love you” over his shoulder, hearing both Carl and Judy respond with their own and he made his way out the door and down the street to his car.

~

The address Simon had given him was right between a less than savory part of the City and an industrial park, the flashing neon sign outside shining the name ‘ _The Sanctuary’_ into the night. Classy. Rick found parking and made his way to the entrance, where a line of people waited to get in. The doorman gave Rick the side eye as he walked right up to him but Rick didn’t pay it too much mind.

“Lines over there, buddy.” He jerked his thumb at the line to his left, squaring his hips and cocking an eyebrow when Rick didn’t seem to be moving to the back of the line. His hair was cropped close to his scalp and graying, and Rick noticed the slightest hint of a southern drawl. He looked like the kind of guy Rick would’ve collared back in King County for drunken disorderly. Off to a great start.

“I’m here to see Simon.” Rick said plainly, not bothering to acknowledge the man’s obviously aggressive demeanor. Rick would always be the bigger fish in a pond of minnows. He didn’t need to puff himself up for men like this.

A look of understanding came over the other man’s face before he asked, “You the new guy, huh? You look like a damn cop.” When Rick only nodded in response, offering no further information the doorman muttered something to himself before making his way inside. He returned a few minutes later with a tall, scrappy looking guy sporting a receding hairline and handlebar mustache.

“Ah you must be Rick, nice to meet you. See you’ve already met our doorman, Merle.” He gave a terse nod in the surly doorman’s direction before turning back to Rick fully. “I’m Simon.” He stuck his hand out in a way that reminded Rick of a wooden soldier trying to act like they were human instead of someone’s toy. He shook the hand offered to him, giving his thanks while quietly sizing the two men up.

“C’mon I’ll show ya around!” He chirped, turning and heading back into the club. Rick noticed that Simon was wearing a leather cut that had ‘ _The Saviors’_ emblazoned on the back along with the image of what looked like a vulture holding something in it’s talons. He couldn’t quite make out the rest as Simon had dipped into the shadows of the club’s interior. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Merle had a similar jacket on as well. Something about it did not sit right with the part of him that was still Officer Grimes. Was this some kind of gang? Was the club a front for something else? Rick’s anxiety at the possibility nearly doubled when he noticed more men with similar cuts on scattered throughout the club.

“This way, this way! I’ll introduce you to the other guy working security.” Simon gestured animatedly for Rick to follow, and he did, observing the layout of the night club as they made their way through the crowd of people.

The lower level of the club had two platforms, one that ringed the perimeter of the room and was littered with tables and booths for seating, all the way to the back wall where the bar was. The second level made way for a huge dancefloor, where at least a hundred people were already dancing and swaying to the music playing. There was a hallway on the right that presumably led to restrooms, Rick would have to check later to make sure. There was a set of stairs on either side of the bar that led to a balcony which Rick assumed were VIP booths. On the far wall of the upper level a door loomed ominously, cast by a single light above it and displaying the same vulture image he’d seen on the back of Simon’s jacket.

“This is Daryl, Merle’s baby brother.” Simon gestured to a gruff looking man who was leaning against the wall beside the bar, a good vantage point to look out into the rest of the club. Daryl’s face was all hard lines, and scars littered the biceps that seemed to be busting out of the cut-off leather vest he was wearing. Rick would hazard a guess that if he turned around there’d be an identical vulture there.

“Alright, here’s the deal: There’s a brawl, deal with it. Preferably before shit escalates outta hand. Toss the unsavories and keep things running nice n’ smooth, got it?” Simon looked to Rick for confirmation and got a nod in return. “Good. You see someone doin’ somethin’ fucked up, toss em. Plain and simple. That means harassing patrons, instigating some dumbass violence, drugging people, what have you.” The blasé attitude that Simon used when speaking really got under Rick’s skin, especially when he fanned his hands out in front of him as if people _being drugged_ was just so beneath his time and purview of consideration.

“See you later gentleman!” And with that Simon made his way over to the staircase and disappeared to the upper level. Rick had to blink a few times to bring himself back to the here and now.

Daryl must have noticed because he leaned forward next to Rick to shout above the music, “Don’t worry you’ll get used to him!” As if he just _knew_ Rick would be sticking around long enough to. “C’mon let’s do a sweep!” He jerked his head out toward the crowd and they took off in opposite directions.

Rick always kept eyes on Daryl wherever he was in the club, his cop instincts coming back to him full force. If Daryl found trouble, Rick wanted to be there to back him up. Old habits and all that. Rick had his eye on a few situations that could get out of hand, carefully monitoring them to make sure things stayed under control. There were two unbelievably drunk girls hanging around the bathroom, one of them was crying, makeup starting to smear, while she vowed that she was putting her phone on airplane mode because: “ _Fuck that asshole, he’s not ruining my night!”_ Rick wanted to call them a cab, but figured his Dad vibe might be a little too much. He’d keep an eye on them.

Making his way out from the hallway where the bathrooms were he caught up with Daryl, who silently fell in stride next to him. Rick was guessing he wasn’t a man of many words, but that was fine by him. He scanned the vicinity, taking a moment to watch the patrons who were sitting at the bar. It had to have been a stroke of luck, there’s no way he would have normally caught it, but he looked just in time to see a man leaning over the drink of the girl next to him, her back turned, as he dumped the contents of a bag into the glass.

“Oh fuck no.” Rick didn’t hesitate in taking off towards the guy, leaving Daryl to momentarily stand confused where he’d left him standing. His heart was thumping in his chest as he approached the bar where the man had resumed conversation with the girl, peachy keen and oblivious to Rick’s swift approach. He’d blame the tunnel vision later, how his skin burned and his eyes clouded with rage for why he hadn’t noticed the guy’s leather cut.

Rick didn’t say a word, simply grabbed the glass from the girl’s hand and tossed the contents onto the floor. In his haste he threw the glass across the bar top, shattering it on the ground. He grabbed the guy by the collar of his jacket and hauled him up.

“What the fuck, man?” The man’s face was round and mousey, his plain brown hair lanky and falling in his eyes.

“Don’t fight, and I won’t kill you where you stand.” Rick had lost control of himself, he knew it the moment the words came from his mouth, so cold and lifeless. He was like ice and he knew the other man must have seen it in his eyes because he didn’t so much as squirm as Rick led him across the club and out the exit. He shoved the man forward, making him stumble until he fell onto the curb.

Merle had stood from his perch at the door, eyes narrowing as the guy Rick had tossed scrambled to get up. Daryl shot out the entrance after Rick, throwing his brother a heated look that Rick didn’t miss – _Stay out of it_. But Merle hadn’t made it this far in his god damn life by listening to his baby fuckin’ brother.

“The fuck you doin, Officer Friendly?” Merle slid in-between Rick and the man on the ground, hands on his hips. He eyed Rick up and down, not missing the tightness that seemed to permeate Ricks entire body, tight as a bowstring, ready to snap.

Rick felt fucking _alive._

“This your man?” Rick crowded Merle in, not feeling the least intimidated by the other. Rick knew men like Merle, he’d back down if Rick pushed him far enough into a corner, he just had to hope that his buddies wouldn’t rally to his side or he’d lose his leverage.

The two were locked into each other, both had their teeth drawn back to reveal teeth. Rick had about an inch and a half on Merle, but it was enough for him to use as an advantage. He pushed closer in, almost chest to chest with the other man when a slow clap and low whistle sounded from behind him.

“Hot diggidy dog! What do we have _here_?” The voice was smoky and held a certain edge that Rick recognized. That Rick identified with. He watched Merle back off from him. So, this must be whoever was in charge of whatever little operation they had going on here. Simon managed the night club, but this guy ran the real show.

Rick turned on his heel, blood still boiling in his veins like a scorching fever, still dangerously close to that edge he had toed for the past two years. This guy would either reel him back in or push him over the edge. Rick couldn’t get a good read on him.

“You must be Rick!” The words were punctuated by the back and forth tilt of a baseball bat that was held out in front of him. “I’m Negan! I _run this shit_.” All this guy’s body movements were exaggerated, over the top. He swung the bat around him merrily as he advanced on Rick. Rick didn’t step back, didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch as he felt the barbed wire wrapped around Negan’s bat dig into his side threateningly.

“Cat got your tongue, Rick?” He whispered, eyes drifting over Rick’s face slowly, as if he was drinking him all down in one long gulp. Rick couldn’t help himself, he laughed, one raspy adrenaline infused laugh. Negan blinked for a moment, unsettled by the noise before cracking the most terrifying grin Rick had ever seen on another human being.

“Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like that clown in It when you smile like that?” Rick sniped, watching the grin only grow wider.

Negan turned on his heel abruptly, gesturing to those who had gathered around the scene, “Let’s take this inside, boys.” And everyone dutifully followed.

Now that the adrenaline from the situation was beginning to wear off, something cold and hard settled in Rick’s stomach, making his fingers twitch for the gun holster he knew wasn’t there. The chances that he had royally pissed off at least several members of what appeared to be some sort of fucking motorcycle gang, if not the goddamn president himself, were high. It should have had Rick breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought, he could _die_ tonight for his uncontrollable temper. Instead, he felt his heart picking up again, not from fear but excitement.

He hadn’t thought about Lori once all night. Hadn’t felt that sinking emptiness that hung over him like a noose. Rick felt his blood pumping in his veins, heart thundering in his chest, fingers curling and uncurling but so unbelievably steady, senses heightened and aware as they made their way up the staircase and toward the looming door lit by the single bulb.

Rick took in the room – there were framed photos on the walls, some of people on bikes, another of the outside of The Sanctuary. There was one of a dark-haired woman, thick cat eye makeup making her blue eyes pop. There were chairs that lined both sides of a long hand carved wooden table and at the head Negan stood. None of the men who had accompanied them sat, leading Rick to believe they were waiting for their leader.

“So tell me, folks, what seems to be the problem here?” Negan flashed a winning smile, playing the part of benign peacemaker to the letter. All the while the barbed wire baseball bat sat menacingly on the table in front of him. Rick took a moment to observe the leader of this group in full. Rick immediately noticed he was tall and all lean muscle, he could see that even beneath the thick leather jacket and t-shirt. His hair was jet black and slicked back, making him look even more like a greaser from some 50’s movie. He was older than Rick, had to be, but not by too much.

What grabbed Rick the most though was that smile. He’d never seen someone with such an expressive damn face before, and Rick was caught between intrigued and terrified each time it broke out into that beaming grin. He stuffed that down for later, because, what the fuck.

“This fuckface here tossed me out for no damn reason cept’ he didn’t like the look of me!” The round-faced man from before pointed a thick and leathery finger in Rick’s direction and Rick couldn’t help how he involuntarily bared his teeth at him.

“Ho ho Rick, ya look like you wanna rip Dave’s damn throat out!” Negan crowed, eyes alight with glee as he again drank in the look on Rick’s face. “It’s a good look on you, Rick, really.” Rick felt his stomach flop at the darkness that crossed the other man’s eyes, but ignored it. He wasn’t going to stand down and let this _Dave_ guy get away with what he did.

“You’d wanna rip his throat out too if you knew what he was tryna do in your club,” Rick made himself look thoughtful for a moment before continuing, just to play up the drama of it all, “Or maybe you wouldn’t, who knows.” Rick fanned his hands out at his sides, shrugging.

Negan rounded the table, running his hand down the polished oak surface as he went. The look in his eyes was predatory as he spoke next, “And what might that be, Rick?”

Damn did this guy have a thing for saying his name or what.

Rick was all business now, Officer Grimes back in full force as he made his case, “I was getting ready to do a second sweep of the bar before heading to the front when I saw your man here,” Rick mimicked Dave’s earlier behavior by jabbing a finger in the man’s direction, “Slipping something into a woman’s drink.” Rick couldn’t help the way his tone dropped down to frigid at the end.

Negan whistled low, coming to stand beside Rick, the bat hanging at his side like an ever-present companion. Rick didn’t let it show that the proximity to the other man unnerved him. He could smell the leather of Negan’s jacket and the soft notes of his aftershave.

“That true Dave?” Negan swung his bat out toward Dave, his smile full of teeth. “And don’t even _think_ about lying Dave, you know how Lucille here feels about liars!” He wagged the bat back and forth to punctuate his statement and Rick couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open slightly. He turned to look at the man next to him, about to question him on if he had misheard or did he _name his fucking bat_ after someone, but Dave chose that moment to open his big mouth and start blubbering.

“I-I-please, it wasn’t anything serious. Just a little fun, you know?” Dave had fallen to his knees, fear crippling him as the realization of his mistake hit him.

Negan sucked his teeth as he leaned forward, face to face with Dave’s sobbing, “C’mon Dave, you _know_ better.” And for a second Rick thought he heard a tinge of genuine regret in his voice.

“Y-Yes! I know better, I’m sorry, w-won’t do it again, ever, ever, please, I promise.” Dave’s voice was high and frantic now and Rick felt his stomach turn a little at how pathetic is was. Hadn’t this man been blustering over Rick’s treatment seconds ago?

“Dave, Dave, Daaaave,” Negan cocked his hips out, appearing every bit the domineering leader Rick was beginning to see he was. “You know I can’t let that shit stand, rules are rules and the rules keep us safe.”

Rick wondered what other rules this group had. Before he could dwell on the possibilities he felt an arm being slung around his shoulders and Negan pressing into his side comfortably, as if he’d always belonged there beside him.

“Which is why I’m gonna let Rick here decide how you should be fucking punished!” Negan laughed a little to himself, amused by the spectacle of it. Boy did this guy have a flare for the dramatic but Rick was distracted by the feeling of fingers digging into his shoulder slightly, warning – _Don’t disappoint me._

Everything came rushing into Rick’s consciousness all at once, the adrenaline now fading away completely. He was standing in a room of probable criminals, beside what he was beginning to see as a complete lunatic with a barbed wire bat, asking him to be executioner. Sweat beaded on his forehead, making his curls stick to his skin. The fingers dug in harder now, Negan spun him around to face himd, hands on either side of his face, invading his space.

“C’mon Rick! Don’t get a limp dick on me now!” Negan shook him a little, staring at Rick expectantly. “I saw that raging hard on you had outside! I’ll even let you use Lucille if you want.” He wiggled his eyebrows a little at that and Rick resisted the urge to snort. Negan’s eyes were intense as they bore into him and Rick felt himself get stuck in them – the way they narrowed at him, so unbelievably dark and consuming and Rick could feel his spine tingle at the sheer _attention_ he was being given.

“I prefer my hands instead.” Rick rasped and Negan turned him towards Dave and gave him a shove. He didn’t have control anymore as he lunged forward and grabbed Dave’s head, slamming it against the oak table with enough force that it bounced back up, blood rushing from his nose and a gash on his forehead.

All the rage he felt bubbling inside him at the thought of this man violating another person surfaced but was quickly replaced by the constant ache of violence he felt inside him every time his pursuit of Lori’s killer fizzled into nothingness. There was always nothing, never any answers, never any justice. He could dispense justice now. Rick felt his fist collide with Dave’s stomach, watching him double over in pain, bringing him to a knee. He grabbed Dave on either side of his face and felt his knee collide with his nose. He kneed him again, and again. Dave fell to the floor but Rick didn’t stop, landing another blow and another and another. The man beneath him stopped moving but Rick could only see red as he continued to punch him in the face, blood pooling on the floor around Dave’s head.

“Hot damn! Well done Rick!” Hands were on his arms, pulling him up and away, Rick struggled against them. “Easy now, hotshot, that’s enough.” The words were hot on the shell of his ear, his arms pinned to his sides and all Rick could feel was leather against his skin as he was pushed into a chair forcibly.

“Merle, clean that shit up!” Negan shouted, pointing towards Dave’s prone form on the floor but Rick didn’t see any of it, all he could see was the blood staining his hands and the front of his shirt. His chest was heaving, mind a haze as he watched Negan drape himself across the chair at the head of the table.

“I knew you were one crazy motherfucker underneath that clean cut face!” Negan rested his head in his hands, giving Rick a curious look. “I like you Rick and not just for those pretty blue eyes, either.”

Rick couldn’t bring himself to say anything, couldn’t muster up a single thought in his mind. He was teetering on the edge again, reality swimming in his vision like some bad fucking dream he couldn’t wake up from. He’d just beaten a man to a bloody pulp. Did he have a choice, though? A voice reminded him quietly in the back of his mind – _we always have choices, Rick._

“I want you to work for me, Rick. You see, I’ve got a business here in this fine city and I want you to be a part of it.” Negan was staring at him with that expectant look again, the one that had retribution painted all over it if Rick didn’t fall in line. 

“A business?” Rick managed to get out, his mouth suddenly so dry and unyielding. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? He couldn’t shake that fullness he felt in himself, that emptiness filled up and whole for the first time in two years and it made him a little sick at how ecstatic he felt. 

“Guns and drugs, baby. That’s the name of the game. So, you want in?” Negan stated matter of fact, unashamed of his illicit activities. Rick had known - the Savior’s leather cuts, the way they moved in the shadow of the club, the looming door - all of it had sent warning bells off in Rick’s mind. For some reason having his suspicions confirmed only brought a sense of calm relief.

“I used to be a cop, y’know.” Rick rasped, a tinge of amusement in his voice. Was this guy for real? He couldn’t make sense of the man across from him. All his emotions seemed to be transparent, surface level, a big old show for anyone who happened to be paying attention but nothing more than that.

“Oh I know, I run background on all the folks that come through here.” Negan leaned forward a little, head tilting to the side. “Sorry about your wife by the way, terrible way to go.” He smiled.

Rick was across the table in seconds after the words registered, grabbing Negan’s face in his hands, fingers digging into his face painfully. The men who had been standing as silent witnesses around the room all moved forward at once but Negan waved them down.

Rick was looming over Negan now, body posture all rigid lines and hard as ice. He leaned into Negan’s face threateningly, inches away as he bit out, “How the fuck do you know about my wife?” He yanked Negan’s head back a little, angling it so he could face him better, to see if he was lying. Rick doubted if he’d be able to tell if the man was anyway.

“I told ya’ Rick! I run background on everyone here.” Negan reached up at this, fingers curling around Rick’s right wrist, grip painful as he squeezed. “I know you never found her killer, too.”

Negan whispered it, like it was a dark little secret only they shared. And it was really, but the heaviness of the words wasn’t lost on Rick. The meaning behind it rang in Rick’s ears like fucking church bells – _I know why you didn’t turn tail and run the moment you saw this place, I know why you stalk around like a wolf in sheep’s clothes._

Not wanting to let the moment pass, Negan continued, “I can help you find them.” Rick felt Negan’s other hand reach up and grip his chin, holding him in place. “I can help you find the people who killed you wife.”

Rick’s eyes blazed and he couldn’t help how he fisted his hand in Negan’s perfectly slicked hair, snapping his head back impossibly further.

“Don’t fuck with me, _Negan_.” Rick spit out his name with venom despite the way his legs felt like they might give out under him at the possibility of retribution. Rick didn’t doubt this man could give it to him, could help him succeed where he had failed.

Negan leaned forward in his chair, struggling against Rick’s grip as he whispered, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Rick.”

Neither of them moved, not the slightest tremble as they sized each other up. Rick scrutinized the man in front of him, waiting for even the smallest hint of deception. All he saw there was lust and curiosity. Rick shoved Negan’s face away from him, escaping from the other man’s grip as he did so. He took a few steps away, removing himself from the heat and intensity of the moment.

“So, I’ll ask again – which is hard for me Rick because I do _not_ like to repeat myself – are you _in?_ ” Negan stood at this, leaning himself against the table, hand on his hip.

Rick paused, head reeling as he composed himself. Lori’s killer. He could finally find an outlet for all his rage, and _end_ to it all.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Rick didn’t wait for a response, turning and leaving the club and into the cool New York City night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't sure if the attempted date rape warranted a non-con tag, but if you guys think I should add it let me know!


	4. Doves in the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Here it is guys, enjoy! :)

_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

 

Rick jolted from his position on the couch, jostling Judith who had been sleeping nestled into his chest. She rubbed at her eyes sleepily as the doorbell continued to ring. Carl was still in school and almost never forgot his key and Carol would never be so damn _incessant –_

_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

 

Judith looked like she was about to start crying from all the noise, Rick shushing her softly as he picked her up, kissing the top of her head as he made his way to the door. Annoyance bubbled in his chest as he flung the door open, the doorknob banging against the wall from the force.

 

“Rick!” Negan’s smile as he took in the sight before him was devious, eyes lighting up on Judith whose face was scrunched up. “And who is this sweet little thing?” He leaned forward from his position in the doorway, putting himself at eye level with Judith.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rick hissed, grabbing Negan by the arm of his leather jacket and jerking him inside. He looked to either side of his house, making sure none of his neighbors were outside and had seen the lunatic at his doorstep.

“Not happy to see me Rick?” Negan walked inside like he had lived there his entire life, not a care in the world as he inspected Rick’s home. “I’m disappointed.” Negan threw a dazzling grin over his shoulder as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Rick adjusted Judith on his hip, on the defensive as he stood near the door. Negan had given him the rest of the weekend to adjust, to get to know the people that came in and out of _The Sanctuary_ during his nights there. They’d agreed to Rick having the week, to be a person, a parent, a _caretaker_ while Negan got him on the weekends. He’d accompany Negan wherever he needed him to on Friday and Saturday, Sunday’s they’d continue the search that Rick had never found the end of. Sunday’s they’d dive into the rabbit hole that Rick had never seemed to crawl his way out of.

It was Wednesday however and here Negan was, leaning against the kitchen countertop and staring at him with those depthless eyes and cheeky grin.

“I’m gonna’ ask you again,” Rick bit out, the annoyance from before now a steady burn in his veins as he fixed Negan with a glare, “ _What_ are you _doing_ _here?_ ” He tried not to spit the words out, knowing he failed.

“Wanted to see where ya’ lived Rick, easy enough to find your address.” Negan pushed off the counter, hips swinging as he came to a stop in front of Rick. “Now are you gonna keep being so _god damn_ rude or are you gonna introduce me to this cutie?” Negan leaned forward again, giving Judith a goofy face as he did so. She erupted into giggles when Negan puffed his cheeks up comically before letting the air out in one long squeaky sound.

“Can I?” Negan asked, surprising Rick but really what was he going to do, tear her out of his arms? Rick gave him a look out of the side of his eye before passing his daughter into Negan’s open arms. Negan held her on his hip, continuing his series of ridiculous faces that only seemed to end in Judith’s belly laughs. “I’m Negan, what’s your name sweetpea?” He smiled softly down at her.

“Judith!” She chirped, she clapped her chubby little hands together as she said her name, excited. Rick had to check to make sure his mouth wasn’t hanging open in shock. Was this the same person from Friday night? The same man with the looming figure in the leather cut who couldn’t seem to do anything but grin ferally at him? He snapped back to reality when he felt eyes on him. Negan was still doting on Judith, tickling her and making goofy noises as he did so, but he was watching Rick now. Drinking him in again in a way that made Rick feel like his hands were all over him instead of his eyes.

“Cute kid,” He murmured, drawing himself closer into Rick’s space before carefully passing Judith back to him.

“Daddy!” She cried happily, riled up from playing with Negan. Rick smiled at her, letting her grab at his face and hair in her excitement. Rick mumbled his thanks to Negan, still lost. He couldn’t quite grasp that this was reality. Was he still napping on the couch, dreaming?

As if on cue Negan reached forward, tugging at an errant curl on Rick’s head, smiling to himself as he said, “Sorry for waking you from your nap, killer.” He gave Rick’s bedhead one last tug, making Judith laugh and reach out to do the same before he turned on his heel and headed toward the door.

“See you Friday, Rick!” Negan swung the door open and was gone before Rick could get out a response.

He should be irate that this man, this criminal, had invaded his _home_. His home that he had shared with Lori, that he shared with his kids now. Who the fuck did he think he was? But Rick knew – _I go where I damn well please, Rick_.

All the annoyance that had built up at the sound of the doorbell ringing until now fizzled out. His spine tingled at the thought of Judith’s belly laughs and Negan’s stupid silly faces.

 

~

 

Friday came quicker than Rick had expected, anticipation steadily building inside him like an insurmountable mountain. The nervous excitement that seemed to endlessly flop around in his belly since Negan had dropped by unannounced on Wednesday only worsened as it came time to leave Friday evening.

Rick tucked Judith into her bed, counting his blessings yet again that his daughter rarely fussed over bedtimes. She smiled up at him sleepily, cooing out a “Goodnight, Daddy.” Her eyes drooped before shutting, Rick planting another kiss on her cheek, adjusting her blanket around her yet again.

Carl was sprawled across the couch, watching TV half-heartedly. His attention was occupied with rapid-fire texting, eyes glued to his phone as his fingers tapped away on the screen.

Rick leaned over the back of the couch noisily, face next to Carl’s, “Who’re you texting so much?” Rick laughed as Carl jumped, pulling his phone to his chest defensively.

Carl squinted at his Dad, voice accusing as he said, “Mind your own business, Dad.” Carl put his phone in his pocket, pretending to have found a renewed interest in the TV but Rick could hear his phone buzzing in Carl’s pocket and the way his son fought himself on pulling it out and checking his new texts.

Rick chuckled, “Alright, well, you know the rules. No staying-” He was cut off before he could finish rattling off the rules.

“Past midnight. Yeah, I know. Carol will be over to check on me around 10, make sure I lock all the doors and check on Judy.” Carl flipped through the channels aimlessly, phone still buzzing away in his pocket. “Try not to get into any more fights, Dad.” Carl smirked.

Rick sighed, running his thumb over the almost healed over scrapes on his knuckles. He had told Carl half the truth on how they had gotten there – “ _Comes with the job, Carl. Sometimes people get stupid when they’re drunk_ ” Either Carl hadn’t noticed or he’d chosen not to comment on the fact that the rest of Rick was suspiciously absent of any other signs of a struggle.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Rick murmured. He leaned across the couch again, kissing the top of Carl’s head. Carl’s phone buzzed again. “You gonna get that, Carl?” He teased, laughing to himself at the glare he received.

“Bye, Dad. Love you.” Carl dismissed him, already pulling his phone out as Rick left the house behind him. He locked the door behind him, steeling himself for what the night entailed.

Simon had texted him an address last night, with no other information. It wasn’t that far from The Sanctuary, on the other side of the docks. Rick was just getting ready to pull out from the curb when he felt his phone vibrate. Fishing it from his back pocket he read a message from an unknown number: _Hurry your sweet ass up, Rick._ He rolled his eyes, Negan must have gotten his number from Simon. Fantastic.

His phone buzzed again: _Park in The Sanctuary’s lot and walk over_. _Hope you brought your gun. ;)_

Sighing, Rick peeled away from the curb. Rick felt the reassuring weight of his gun strapped to his side. Luckily, he’d brought it on impulse, a last-minute decision. He didn’t know what kind of situation he’d be facing and he didn’t want to be caught unprepared. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it but the text from Negan had him on edge.

It didn’t take long for Rick to reach the club and he quickly parked and left his car behind. He didn’t like the idea of being on foot, making a quick getaway less feasible but he locked up and headed out anyway. He waved to Merle as he passed The Sanctuary’s entrance, receiving a jerky nod in response. Merle had taken any chance he could get to breathe down Rick’s neck last weekend but he didn’t let it bother him. Merle was nothing compared to the man he was making his way eight blocks over to.

The docks were lined with warehouses, some with their windows shattered and in disrepair. Most of them were empty after most of the shipping industry moved out of the city but some of them were still used for storage. He came up to the building Simon had given him the address for, a black Impala parked at the rear loading dock. Leaning against the hood was the long and lean figure in black that had plagued his thoughts. Rick shook his head as he approached from behind, the heels of his boots clicking on the asphalt.

“This your ride?” He murmured, coming to stand by Negan’s side. Lucille was across his lap, barbed wire gleaming in the low light of the lamp posts. The chuckle that came from Negan was deep and menacing the way it rumbled around in his chest like rocks. Rick felt his spine tingle at the sound and couldn’t help but smile. That rush of hot blood he felt whenever he was close to Negan, the kind that screamed danger and made his skin crawl, swelled inside him.

“Yeah, that’s my baby.” He thumped a hand on the car’s hood, eyes hooded and heavy as he looked Rick up and down. Negan seemed pensive, lost in a mood that Rick was familiar with. He didn’t push despite the urge to get under the other man’s skin.

“Where’s Simon?” He asked instead, looking out at the choppy waters of the bay instead. The lights from the city to their backs casting shadows on the surface. Rick wondered what it would be like to get lost in those shadows for a moment, encased in darkness and senseless.

“Checking the perimeter before everyone gets here.” Negan muttered, fishing around in the pocket of his leather jacket for a pack of Camels. He pulled one out with his teeth and lighting it in one fluid movement. “You smoke?” He held the pack out toward Rick, his arm leaning against Rick’s.

“Nah, I don’t.” Rick watched him stuff the pack back into his pocket, smoke puffing out into the cool night air. “Tried once, nearly choked half to death.” He didn’t know why he was explaining himself to Negan, didn’t want to think on the way Negan held the cigarette between his lips.

“Maybe the second time around will be better.” Negan smirked, taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it to Rick’s lips, pressing the butt against his bottom lip. Rick opened his mouth, letting him ease the cigarette between his lips, feeling the rough skin of Negan’s fingers drag against the smooth skin. Rick reached up to take it from him but Negan didn’t move his hand away, holding firm. He risked a quick glance at the other man as he took a deep drag, lungs filling with smoke and burning his throat, and nearly coughed. Those dark eyes were trained on his face, intent and observant and Rick let the smoke escape from his mouth.

Negan pulled his hand away, continuing to stare as he smoked. He reached back over, leaning into the motion this time so he was invading Rick’s space, pressing the cigarette to Rick’s lips again. Rick felt his heart skip a little when Negan’s thumb ran across his bottom lip, the smoke and their skin mingling.

“Everything looks good, boss.” Simon rounded the corner, hands stuffed in his pockets as he came to stand in front of the two of them. Rick jerked away from Negan’s hand, the moment stolen away from them into the night.

“Time for the show!” Negan flicked his cigarette, the cherry popping from the filter and smoldering on the pavement. Rick watched Negan from the corner of his eye, watched him grin with a manic edge to it as he leaned in close to whisper, “You bring your gun, _Rick_?”

Rick felt the side of his face tingle where Negan’s breath ghosted across his skin and did his best to ignore the way it made his stomach flop. He pulled his jacket away from his side to flash Negan his sidearm holster. Negan’s grin only grew at the sight. Rick couldn’t help the way that he felt more dangerous when he was with this man, more dangerous than he’d ever felt when he’d been on the force and had to shoot at people. It was like Negan’s presence brought that insidious and greasy darkness living inside him to the surface, made it grow darker and sharper, to the point where it felt like it might cut through Rick’s skin and consume him.

“Our guests have arrived!” Negan hollered, pushing off from the Impala’s hood as headlights rounded the warehouse corner Simon had come from previously. A black Cadillac pulled to a stop about 100 feet away from their group. Rick hadn’t noticed when Daryl had arrived but he was standing stiffly next to a man with straw blonde hair and a nasty burn covering the side of his face. Rick hadn’t met him since he’d started working at the club. He eyed the two of them, noting the way Daryl’s defensive body posture didn’t seem directed towards the people who had just arrived but at the man next to him instead.

Negan had Lucille swung over his shoulder, throwing a quick glance back toward Rick to make sure he hadn’t wandered from him. Rick wondered if he was reading too much into it by thinking there was an implicit meaning to the action: _I want you to have my back, by my side._

Rick watched as a tall woman with short almost cropped brown hair emerged from the car. She had a strong jawline and a determined look to her. She was wearing a leather cut like the rest of the Saviors but Rick doubted he’d find the same club name and image stitched onto the back. Two more women slid out of the car and flanked the first woman, followed by a man wearing an _eye patch_?

“Who’s the new guy?” The first woman asked, she stood at the front, the apparent leader of this new group. Her tone was clipped, clearly a no-nonsense kind of woman. Rick wondered how Negan tolerated having such a strong personality leading what was clearly a rival gang to his. Unless, they weren’t rivals, since they clearly had some sort of partnership going by the looks of this meeting.

“Always straight to the point Miss Greene! I do believe introductions are in order.” Negan turned to Rick, making a motion with his hand as if Rick were on _display_ , “This is-” Negan began but was cut off.

“I don’t know how many times I need to remind you but its Mrs. Rhee, now. I’d think you’d remember, you were at the damn wedding.” The girl on the left spit this out, eyes fiery and clearly not excited to be here. She had a rifle slung over her shoulder and Rick thought that was just a _touch_ too much but hey, who was he to judge.

“Awww, don’t be so sour Rosita! I know you’re still in mourning but I’ll tell you again – that shit ain’t on me!” Negan swung Lucille down and around in one fluid motion, meeting Rosita’s burning glare. “Besides, Maggie’s always gonna’ be Herschel’s baby girl to me.” He smiled a sickly-sweet kind of smile at Maggie. Rick was impressed by the girl’s steel resolve as she didn’t rise to the bait, just cocked an eyebrow in response.

Rick was confused to say the least, but he’d probably get filled in on the details he was missing later.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely fucking interrupted-” Negan made sure to point Lucille at Rosita when he said this before continuing, “This here is Rick. My new best-fucking-friend.” Rick grunted at the term, pointedly ignoring Negan as he grinned at him, waving towards the small group in front of them.

Rick didn’t know if social niceties applied in this case – do criminals and gang members practice the same courtesies?

Fuck it, he decided, “Nice to meet y’all.” He said, his voice coming out thick from his accent and he cursed himself a little. Rick swore he caught Maggie smirk a little and he took that as a win. Rosita and the other woman looked confused and Negan, well, he looked down right _tickled_.

“Look at my good ol’ southern boy, playing nice!” He clapped Rick on the shoulder, hand resting there for a moment, possessive. Rick nearly rolled his eyes at the gesture but decided turning his head away and pursing his lips would suffice.

“Rick this is Miss Maggie, leader in chief of Alexandria. Her and I have a _business_ agreement.” Rick didn’t miss the way all three of the women looked like they’d been forced to eat dirt at Negan’s statement. “That little fucking hellcat there is Rosita, the sergeant at arms if you can fucking call it that. And that sweet pea is Tara, she handles the finances.” Negan grinned ferally, eyes glittering in the diffuse light of the dock lights. Tara gave a little wave to Rick.

Rick didn’t miss the way Negan had glossed over the man with the god damn _eye patch_ – how in the hell had _that_ happened? The man seemed to shift nervously from foot to foot, hands shoved in his pockets and posture tense. Interesting.

As if suddenly remembering himself Negan pointed Lucille at the pirate in disguise and grunted, “This is Philip Blake. He’s one of ours.” And that was the end of it. Statement, period. Nothing else. Was he with Alexandria to ensure their cooperation? Rick could sense there was a whole lot more to that story, but he figured that was a conversation for another time.

“Shall we proceed?” Simon asked, helpfully. He made a broad gesture to the group as he spoke. Rick wondered if Simon always looked like he would rather be anywhere than where he was, that everything was beneath his purview of concern.

“You got my shit or what, darlin?” Negan had dropped all the charisma and charm from his voice, the notes hanging low and resonant in the air. He leveled Maggie with a look, expectant.

“It’s in the trunk.” Maggie stated simply, immovable and solid from her spot. The headlights of the Cadillac framed her on either side, making her look like an angel in leather, ready to dispense heavenly justice at any moment.

“You gonna’ just stand there lookin’ fuckin pretty or are you gonna’ get it for me?” Negan’s fingers drummed against the grip of Lucille impatiently, baring his teeth as he spoke. Maggie’s eyes blazed a little at Negan’s attempt to assert his dominance, but she nodded to Tara after a beat. Rick shifted restlessly, feeling useless. He stole a glance at Negan – his jaw was set hard, dark eyes uncompromising. Rick felt his stomach flutter a little when the other man turned slowly to look at him, face breaking into a wild smile.

“You watchin’ me, Rick?” Negan pitched his voice low, the words only for them to hear.

“Not much to see, if I’m being honest.” Rick shot back quickly, readjusting his gun for the tenth time that night. Surprise colored Negan’s face before it dissipated quickly, replaced by genuine humor. Tara had returned from the trunk, unceremoniously dropping a large black duffle on the ground at Negan’s feet.

“I weighed everything before we left, should all be there.” Tara fidgeted where she stood, unsure of what to do, before moving back to Maggie’s side quietly.

Daryl moved around them, his feet soundless as he moved, and Rick could see how that might come in handy. He couldn’t seem to make it five feet without running into something. He unzipped the bag and Rick sucked in a breath at the sight. That was a lot of carefully wrapped bricks of what he assumed was heroin. His heart skipped in his chest at the sight of Daryl carefully removing each brick, evaluating the contents with the kind of methodic precision that came from repetition. He swallowed, _hard._

“Cmon Rick, don’t tell me you’ve never fucking seen heroin before!” Negan crowed, turning towards Rick fully as he spoke. Negan leaned forward, face intense as he laughed, “Cop instincts kicking in? You gonna turn tail and fucking run out on me?” Rick was becoming uncomfortably familiar with the look on Negan’s face – _don’t disappoint me, Rick._

“That’s-” Rick punctuated his statement with a look at the bricks stacked on the asphalt, “A lot of drugs.” Negan hadn’t leaned out of his personal space, still staring at him expectantly.

Rick sighed, thinking of the promise he’d been made. Justice. For Lori. Closure, for himself. The end at the light of the tunnel. He had chosen this path, now he had to swallow the bitterness in his mouth at being an accomplice to this grimy underbelly he’d found himself pinned under.

“I’m good.” He breathed, regaining his composure. He was getting antsy. For a drug exchange it had gone by without relative incident and Rick counted that as both a blessing and a disappointment.

“Glad to hear it, Rick.” Negan whispered the words as if he’d been holding his breath. He swung Lucille up onto his shoulder, impish grin plastered back on his face. “What’s the verdict, Daryl?”

“Looks good. Hafta do a thorough count when we get back.” Daryl was placing the bricks back into the duffle, zipping it closed.

“It would appear our business for the evening has concluded ladies!” Negan gave a theatric half bow. Maggie had already turned to move back to the Cadillac in silence, Tara and Philip following her dutifully. Rosita stood, fixing Negan with a hard stare. “As always, it’s been a pleasure.” Rosita spat on the ground at his words, taking her leave. The Cadillac peeled out of the dock loudly and into the New York City streets.

“C’mon Rick, I’ll give you a lift to your car.” Negan patted the hood of the Impala before sliding into the driver’s seat. Rick stood rooted for a moment -  that was it? Why hadn’t Negan given them something in return? Wasn’t that what happened during drug deals – money exchanged for goods? He reeled in his confusion as he got in the passenger seat, Simon a silent specter in the backseat. He hadn’t seen where Daryl and the burned man had gone off to.

“That was,” Rick faltered for a moment, unsure, “Quite tame.” He finished lamely, feeling the rumble of the engine vibrate his seat. He smiled, finding comfort in the feeling. The interior of the car smelled like leather and cigarettes.

Negan looked at him strangely for a moment as the pulled away from the docks and made their way toward the night club, choosing to remain silent for once. He was testing the waters, seeing Rick’s reaction to tonight’s events.

Fuck it, Rick decided impulsively to forge ahead with his curiosity – “What’s the deal with the fucking pirate guy?” Rick cringed at his wording, perhaps Negan’s tactlessness was rubbing off on him? Something about that thought unsettled him greatly. He had always prided himself on his carefulness but maybe that just wasn’t him anymore. He didn’t dwell on it, distracting himself with the sound of Negan’s rumbling laughter and Simon’s soft chuckles from behind him.

“Fucking pirate guy!” Negan cackled, eyes watering. Rick couldn’t stop the feeling that bubbled in his chest at the sight. Negan swerved a little, wiping at his eyes. “I knew there was a sense of humor under all that fucking god damn _brooding_.”

Rick waited for Negan to compose himself, pointedly not responding to the jab. Chuckles continued to escape from Negan as he spoke, “I cut out his fucking eye.” His tone was as if he was talking about the weather. Rick felt all the humor drain from him in an instant, his skin suddenly cold against the smoothness of the leather seat.

Silence smothered them, suffocating in the confined space and Rick felt himself struggling to form a coherent thought. His brain skittered through a hundred thoughts all at once before arriving at a singular and heavy conclusion – was he really all the surprised?

“You gonna elaborate or do I have to figure that one out on my own?” Rick felt his leg twitching, the sour taste from before filling his mouth again. Rick had killed out of necessity, it was part of his job. He had never taken pleasure in hurting another person – not until the other night with the guy at the club. There was no fulfillment in taking someone’s life. Rick had accepted the fact that he felt much more thrill during the chase – the hunt made him hunger for release, but the final act never seemed to bring any relief. He reasoned that there had to be some sort of motivation for such pure brutality in Negan, that it hadn’t been out of some sick urging to maim for personal enjoyment.

“Why don’t you give it a guess, cowboy.” Negan made a smooth left turn, eyes on the road but Rick knew that he had the other man’s full attention in that moment.

“Punishment?” Rick gave voice to his thoughts, feeling unsteady. He was treading water in unknown oceans.

“Sure was,” Negan smiled wide, but Rick could see the bitterness that clung to the curve of Negan’s mouth.

“The crime?” Rick prompted, but he wondered for a moment if he really wanted to know the answer. Maybe knowing it was punishment was enough, but he’d already asked so he waited patiently for an answer. Negan didn’t immediately give one, a dark look clouding his features, not out of place on him.

“Over a year ago there was a dispute between the Saviors and another club. I had called on Maggie for reinforcements, we had already established our arrangement then.” Negan gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. He gave a raspy laugh, obviously picking at an old wound by recounting the tale but he continued anyway, “Philip was one of my fucking sergeant of arms at the time, thought he could handle his fucking shit. He gave Maggie bad intel, got her old man taken. They sent his head to her in a fucking box. Wrapped up all pretty with a goddamn bow.”

Rick remembered Negan’s words echoing in his mind – _she’ll always be Herschel’s little girl to me._ There was a pinched feeling in Rick’s chest, one he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shake for a while. He thought of Carl, of him opening a pretty little package with his head inside. Bile rose in his throat.

“Come to fucking goddamn find the intel he got was from a girl he’d been fucking who belonged to the group we were disputing with. So, I cut out his fucking eye. Maggie watched.” Negan’s jaw was clenching and unclenching rapidly.

“So now he keeps an eye on Alexandria? A reminder to him of his mistake?” Rick felt confusion muddling his thoughts. So many things about the Saviors leader just didn’t add up in Rick’s mind. How could a man talk so candidly about butchering another human, cutting out his eye and in the same breath defend those very same actions with a tale of honorable retribution?

“An eye for an eye.” Negan muttered, voice tinged with venom before breaking into dark laughter, “An eye for a severed fucking head.” Rick felt that bile rising in his throat again. He wondered when this all would come crashing down on his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had _purpose_ again, even if it was fulfilling the wishes of a very disturbed man.

“You fucking pissing your pants yet, Rick?” Negan’s voice was tight, his eyes straying to look at Rick heatedly. Rick didn’t miss the distress there, buried deep down beneath all of Negan’s bravado and sharp lines.

Reassurances were on his lip’s but they never made it out as an SUV t-boned the left side of the Impala, sending them crashing into a lamppost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless self advertising here, if y'all do that Tumblr thang my username is wakethedreams.


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